


Be Good

by kitschradio



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Flirting, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Vignette, codependent buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitschradio/pseuds/kitschradio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants to borrow that coat he gave Nick while he goes skiing in Mammoth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little missing scene, and possible prologue to a bigger fic that was in the works before it got so thoroughly jossed.

**Be Good**

"Be good," his mum tells him.

"I'm _always_ —"

"Don't break any bones, and keep your head up. Who on earth ever thought you of all people should learn to ski?"

"That would be Louis 'The Tommo' Tomlinson, if you remember," Harry says. He's winding his way around a girl who has a fistful of dog leads. Harry likes dogs very much, but he must smell weird to them or something, because they always seem to be trying to knock him over. There's a small Chihuahua that's wrapped its lead around his leg twice. The girl is barely keeping hold of the other four. "It's all right," he tells her when she apologises. "My fault, really."

"Honestly," says his mum, "you were all but affianced then, you'd think he'd have known extreme sport wasn't a good idea."

"Clearly you've forgotten what it's like to be around Louis. _Everything_ sounded like a good idea."

His mum makes a rude noise into the phone and Harry laughs, successfully detangling himself from the dog leads only to run headfirst into a lamp post. He apologizes to it distractedly.

"Are you all right?" his mum asks.

"I'm fine, just walking to Nick's."

"It sounds dangerous."

"Dogs."

"Mm," she says seriously. "Aren't you off to the airport soon?"

Harry tugs his hood a bit more tightly around his face. The wind is bitterly cold. "Nick has my coat. Or I'm borrowing his, I suppose."

"Well, tell him I say hello."

"I will," says Harry, even though Nick isn't home tonight. Harry was hoping to see him before he left, but it took him longer than he thought it would to pack and Nick is DJing tonight.

"And be safe, love. And have fun. Give me a text when you land, you know I worry."

"I will, mum," he says, smiling. He only just saw her, but he misses her a bit already. "And I'll be good, I promise."

"No smashing your chin open this time," she says, just as he's turned onto Nick's road. "And no broken bones."

"No broken bones. Cross my heart."

"All right then. Love you."

"Love you too," he tells her, and they hang up with a quick goodbye as Harry shimmies his keys out of his jeans pocket. It wasn't the brightest idea, probably, wandering over from his house in just a hoodie. His nose and hands feel frozen and his knuckles are cracked and sore from dryness. Nick will have moisturiser.

He hurries down the stairs, teeth chattering, and lets himself into the flat. The heat is a profound relief that makes his skin sting, and before he can do more than shut the door Puppy is barreling into the hall, a squeaky toy shaped like Patrick from Spongebob Squarepants in her mouth. She's had it for ages, since Nick first got her, and it's ratty and disgusting, going black in spots like her drool has given it leprosy. Nick and all of his friends, including Harry, have bought her dozens of toys, but she's only keen on this one that Harry doesn't much like to touch. He waits for her to drop it before he kneels down to pet her.

"Hey there sweet girl," he coos, grinning as she jumps up on him, little paws on his knees while she licks his face. "Did your daddy leave you all alone tonight? I'm sure he thought you'd have much more fun here. He has your best interests at heart." She nips at the tip of his nose and barks once, loudly. He scratches her ears. "Between you and me, though, I think you'd have done just fine on the dance floor, you and Patrick there. You've got moves."

He unfolds himself and flips on the lights, pins and needles in his fingers. He shakes his hands to get blood circulating again and wanders into the living room. 

Puppy picks up her toy and trots along behind him, her toenails clicking on the hardwood.

Nick never leaves Puppy alone without some sort of noise to keep her company, so an Antlers tune is playing in surround sound, Nick's worn iPod from a hundred years ago hooked into the dock. His flat is tidy, but lived in. Harry loves all his friend's houses, likes to see little pieces of them left all around him when he visits. There's a mostly-empty mug of tea on the table next to the sofa and several multi-colored, sparkly gel pens next to it. A crocheted blanket from Nick's mum is balled up in one cushion and covered in dog hair (Puppy's bed is flipped upside down and miraculously clean in the corner). Harry picks up the purple sparkly gel pen and makes his way into the kitchen, where Nick keeps a Badtz Maru notepad in a drawer next to the cooker.

He leaves Nick a quick note ( _Took red coat. Promise not to lose it this time. Love, Harry_ ) and has just managed to stick it to the fridge with a few magnetic poetry magnets ( _Avast! Me tatas shall miss yarr diddle r_ ) when, out of nowhere, someone shouts, "Who's that then!"

Harry startles so hard he slams his hip into the corner of the counter, trips over a barking dog and falls in a pile of flailing limbs. He lands partially on Puppy and barely manages to keep his head from bouncing off the floor. Puppy growls furiously at him and weasels out from underneath him, and Nick, wearing nothing but a towel and a smirk, comes into view above him.

"All right?" he asks. He's trying not to laugh and there's colour high in his cheeks, damp curls falling over his forehead. Harry's ears are burning and his face is probably bright red. His heart is racing. He lets his head drop to the ground with a breathy giggle.

"You scared the shit out of me."

"A job well done, then."

"Literally," says Harry, still catching his breath. He feels like he's run a marathon. "I may have actually shat myself."

Nick bends over and helps haul Harry up from the floor. He grips him gently by the elbows once they're upright, checking him up and down for wounds. "There she is, now. Give us a spin. Let's make sure there's no potato in back."

Harry spins in a slow circle dutifully. "Potato in back?"

"You've never heard that joke?" Nick grins when Harry shakes his head. "Bloke's at the beach with some mates, asks one of them what he should do to attract the ladies. His mate says 'Put a potato in your Speedo', so the bloke tries it. All he gets is people pointing and laughing, so he goes back to his friend who says, 'Mate, you're supposed to put it in the _front_.'"

Harry laughs out loud. "I'm going to try that in Malibu."

Nick snorts. "Give a whole new wealth of results for Googling 'Harry shit', won't it?"

"Harry Styles shit on stage. Harry Styles solo shit. Harry Styles—"

"Shit in bed."

"Oi!"

Nick laughs and pulls Harry in for a quick peck on the forehead, "Hiya, Cat," he says and then pushes Harry gently out of the way of the fridge so he can open the door. Puppy is lingering in the doorway with her squeaky toy, looking mutinous. Harry whistles to her and pats his leg, but she turns tail and storms away. Sadly, it's not the first time he's fallen on her. She tends to hold grudges. Nick stands back up with milk in hand. "Tea?"

"I'll just get water," says Harry, and goes about finding a glass and filling it from the tap. He bumps their hips together when Nick crowds close to flip on the kettle. "Sorry I barged in. I would've like, announced myself, but I thought you were out."

"Not 'til nine-thirty," says Nick. "Scared me to death, thought someone'd come to do a grizzly murder or summat."

"In your kitchen?"

"Maybe the murderer got peckish, I reckoned."

"Could be," Harry agrees. "Needed a bit of a snack before doing a murder."

"I've got a lovely cheese plate in there."

"Hmm. Did he have a weapon?"

"Obviously," says Nick. "To cut me up with. He had a machete. He was going to bury my bits in the garden and put my head in a hat box. Very Rear Window."

Harry tuts, wrinkling his nose. "Luckily, it was just me. And I just came for a coat."

"Best for it than on it," says Nick. "Which coat?"

"The red one."

"So you can wear checks on top of checks?"

"On top of checks."

"Oh, Harold."

"Hey, now, this is Britain's style icon you're talking to."

Nick gives him a fond, lopsided smile. "It is, isn't it? I seem to remember you giving me that coat. 'It would look better on you,' you said, 'better for your colouring," you said."

"I thought we might share it, that's all. Joint custody. It shouldn't grow up with only one parent."

Nick waves him off, rolling his eyes. The kettle burbles grumpily. "It's in the bedroom."

"Cheers." Harry sets his glass of water on the counter and pads out of the kitchen and down the hall to rifle through Nick's wardrobe.

"Are you sure you don't want tea?" Nick calls.

"Yeah, car will be here to pick me up soon," Harry answers. Nick's bought new clothes since last week. Harry eyes a black jumper covetously and, with a shrug, strips the white one he's wearing off to try it on. It musses his hair and sends shocks of static electricity through his limbs, sparks flying. He fixes his ponytail and adjusts the jumper. He's a bit broader in the shoulders and chest than Nick is, and shorter. It looks great on him.

"What's all this tit fucking you're on about missing?"

Harry beams into the wardrobe. "I couldn't find _bazoombas_!"

"Idiot! It's right here under _engorged peter_!"

Harry tosses his jumper over his shoulder and grabs the coat he came for. Nick's stood in the kitchen doorway with his tea, Puppy in the crook of his other arm.

"Can I borrow this too?" Harry asks him.

"Sure, yeah," Nick agrees. He makes a ridiculous face at Puppy and she yips and licks him fervently. Harry's heart feels too big for his chest just looking at her. Nick sets Puppy on the floor. "Suits you. When's your flight?"

"Car will be here in about ten minutes," Harry answers, checking his watch.

"You really ought to stop with these skiing trips, you know. Don't break any bones or anything."

Harry narrows his eyes. "Have you been talking to my mum? She said the same thing."

"Anyone who knows you knows what a clumsy bumble bee you are. There's a reason clumsy bumble bees don't ski."

"Would cost a fortune, that many legs."

Nick sips his tea to hide a smile but Harry knows he liked it; Nick always likes his jokes, they never tumbleweed with him. Harry's phone vibrates in his jeans pocket and he pulls it out with an air of smugness to read the text. "Car will be here in a minute. I'll leave this here as collateral, yeah?"

Nick takes the white jumper Harry offers and tosses it over the back of an armchair, and then sets his tea down on the side table to pull Harry in for a hug once Harry's put Nick's coat on. Nick smells good and his chest hair is soft against Harry's skin before Harry hooks his chin over Nick's shoulder and gets an arm around him. Nick's always warm with cold hands. He pats Harry's back heartily twice before pulling back to see him properly.

"You'll be back by your birthday, of course? I'm already having invitations made."

"Promise. Take a lot of pictures in Milan, all right?"

"You've been there before."

"I want to see it from your point of view!" Harry argues.

"Have fun with the Kardashians."

"Remember to Google 'Harry shit' every day. Should be a good news story when it breaks."

"Paps on Poops," says Nick.

Harry kneels to give Puppy a hug. She's forgiven him and licks him all over his face and bites his ear. "Keep your daddy out of trouble," he tells her. He carries her to the door and then hands her off to Nick, "Keep in touch, yeah?"

"You too."

Harry pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, smiling. He rolls his eyes at himself and wraps Nick and Puppy both up in one more hug. Nick laughs and hugs him back one-armed. Harry pulls away almost reluctantly and opens the door. "Be good. I'll see you in a month."

"Twenty-seven days!" Nick calls.

"Whatever!" says Harry. His car is already outside. He takes the steps two at a time and slides into the back seat. Nick's door doesn't close until Harry's does.


End file.
